The Ghost in the Mirror
by MmeDeMerteuil
Summary: Eris Alastor, future Queen of Betancuria, had her whole life destroyed in front of her eyes. This is the story of how she abandoned the pieces and went her own way... A Dance With Rogues fanfiction Warning for triggery topics, see Author Note for details.
1. Under Siege

AUTHOR NOTE:

Hallo to you all... this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction for this wonderful videogame. As you might have guessed, it is based upon Valine's module A Dance with Rogues, but I'll try to make it so that even someone who has never played it can appreciate this reading. The nature of it is very, very dark and gritty, and some of the topics treated here might be triggering; I'll try to warn for each of them whenever they come up, but I also will try to keep it classy and not explicit (at least as far as sexual topics go, since it's against the rules after all). There will be lots of moral ambiguity, but please keep in mind that my main character is **not meant to voice my opinions**.

This particular chapter features a rape scene, several murders, descriptions of violent acts and harsh language.

A word about the Princess, now. I didn't want to write about this game with a blushing, innocent flower or a nymphomaniac as my main character, even though I tried both in different playthroughs. My Princess in this playthrough was named Eris Alastor: this fanfiction will be completely told from her point of view. I also didn't write this with a pairing in mind, because I want to wait for an updated second part to come out before going on with the plot. I don't think I need to remind you this, but I own absolutely nothing apart from Eris.

One last thing: please tell me if the grammar or wording are awkward. I've had a friend of mine beta-read it, but I'd be glad to fix whatever he missed if you point it out. This isn't my first language. Thanks for your attention, I think I've spoken too much: just enjoy it, and please drop me a line or two if you have found it entertaining enough (or terrible enough). You would make me absolutely delighted.

* * *

**Under Siege**

During those days, even my reflection in the mirror looked quite pale.

I hadn't missed the looks of anguish on the guards' faces. Nor the grim tone of Father's voice, nor the dark rings around Mother's eyes, nor the occasional words exchanged between the servants. They spoke of invasion. They spoke of armies too big and powerful to be defeated, whispered of plans to leave the city while they still could. Still, they only spoke to each other; for some reason, they refused to answer my questions, and kept denying there was anything wrong.

I almost wished for something to happen, more horrified by the long wait than the terror of the unknown. Had I known, would I still…?

* * *

Then, on a rather uneventful day, Shira opened the door to my room to inform me that the bath was ready. She was wearing her hair up, like she always did during the ten years she spent working as my maid, and one of those long, fluttering dresses she liked so much, and even a bracelet made of cheap coloured stones, one of those inexpensive, cute treats Benjamin kept bringing her whenever he had a coin or two to spare. He was an errand boy, and she was a maid. They thought I didn't know, but of course I did. The funny thing was everyone thought I didn't know or didn't see what was happening around me. I knew we were going to be at war soon, and I knew Shira and Benjamin had a secret affair, just like I knew that my mother kept a diary hidden in the back of a drawer, or that the stable boy took every chance he could to steal from the kitchens and bring the food to his grandma in the city. And still, everyone thought that Princess Eris Alastor, future Queen of Betancuria, was either too busy or too dumb to understand.

At first, I didn't even look at her, the hopes of something actually happening and waking me up from that dazed state of boredom and subtle anxiety having died long before that day. Now I remember how, once, Mother had jokingly told a younger, more impatient me, that "nothing happens until it happens". It's true. Nothing was out of the ordinary**, **that day, until I looked up from my book, and saw the empty, frenzied look of fear in the young maid's eyes. She was pale, her healthy, rosy cheeks now were as white as my own, and the smile on her face was too forceful; she was scared. For a few seconds, I thought she had fallen ill.

"By the Gods, Shira, aren't you pale… you'd better take your leave today… did you fall ill on me?" My voice was calm as usual as I reached out to touch her cheek, but her skin wasn't feverishly hot. Actually, quite the opposite. She shrugged, her smile tightened even more for a second, before she shook her head. For once, I really didn't know, and my suspects, usually very loud and clear, had fallen silent for a second too long.

"It's fine, my Lady, it's just…" She sighed, and that was the moment when I realized that something had happened. Finally. It wasn't nearly as satisfying as I would've thought a week before. "We're at war, my Lady. With the Dhorn. His Majesty your father has given orders to the troops to defend the reign… I… I don't…" She covered her face, and the smile was gone. She was sobbing in her hands. "I'm so sorry... I'm scared".

There was a sound of something hitting the floor. I didn't even realize it was the book I was holding, I only knew I had stood up, and placed my hand on her shoulder, and I was finding it really hard to wrap my mind around the fact that we were about to go at war against our closest, strongest allies, the Dhorn, and in my mind I kept repeating myself that I had seen less and less red uniforms visiting us during the past few months.

"Shira…" I whispered, speechless, and I tensed, a cold shiver running down my spine. "I need to speak to my Father".

* * *

Even my reflection in the mirror looked dreadfully pale. Father always took great pride in my white cheeks, considering it proof that the glorious blood of his ancestors was more powerful than ever in my veins, and indeed my grandmother's portraits sported the same pale complexion, but now mine looked like wax from a candle, and my eyes were distant and always lost in thought; around them I could spot the same dark rings I had seen until that day on Mother's face.

Before I knew it, several days had passed. Before I knew it, the Dhorn were at the city walls. It really didn't seem that long, but thinking back, I realize it must've been whole months. My life went on as it used to, and even when I spoke to my father I couldn't find it in myself to accuse him for the way they had kept everything hidden from me. I was simply astonished. I had been taught, since I was a child, to face every difficulty with the decorum and calm a queen needed, and so I found myself at a loss for reactions.

I just had no idea about how to handle it.

Now that the enemy was at the door, everything started slowly to fall apart. The façade of peacefulness my family and servants had somehow managed to build during the previous months started to rot. It's funny, really. Everyone was frantically living, as if they had the certainty, deep in their mind, that those would be their last chances to. Everyone kept saying that Castle Alastor would never fall, and still they acted as if they had already seen, in their heads, the day it would happen, too. They probably had, several times. I hadn't. I kept trying to convince myself that nothing was happening, that it would never happen. Castle Alastor had never fallen before. The Dhorn weren't slaying anyone I cared about. I was still healthy, ate everything I wanted, took baths and wore the finest silks.

Nothing happens until it happens.

That was the truth.

I felt like a pillar in the middle of a storm. I could see the thrashing and swaying of those before me, and it barely affected me – I didn't allow it to. I was to be the next queen, I couldn't allow it to.

Then something broke, and I had to kneel.

* * *

I never knew the exact moment they stormed through the main hall, but I remember the way my skin crawled when I heard the first scream. It was a wail of terror, not the scream of someone dying.

I was told to retire to my rooms, and I quickly did, with Shira right behind me, her face a mask of fear just as it was on the day she revealed the truth to me. But this time she wasn't crying, and that made it all the more jarring. The silence between us was chilling, because now I could hear the sounds of battles in the other rooms. The castle had fallen.

The funny thing is how your mind starts playing tricks when you're frantically trying to get a grip. My whole body was cold, icy cold, but I could feel a sharp heat pooling at the base of my head and neck. I felt faint. I kept thinking of possible ways to escape the situation alive, and in the brief time I spent walking to my room I think I came out with at least twenty different possibilities. Funny. My brain worked better when I was scared than when I was calm. Not so funny, actually.

My apparent calm seemed to be intimidating, because Shira, still behind me, still shivering and chewing on her lips, didn't dare to speak a single word until I broke the silence – and didn't stop until the end after that. Idly locking the door, I sighed, looked around, prayed that my body would not fail me there. What if I fainted? I couldn't waste my time unconscious…

I sat down on the bed. The world kept spinning around me, I muttered something in frustration, and that's when Shira fell to a shivering mess on the ground and started weeping. The sound of her voice, so strained and loud, hurt my ears. Of course I couldn't yell at her… a queen couldn't lose her cool all of a sudden, and…

That's when I realized I would never be the queen again.

"Shira… stand up. Stop it".

I was tired all of a sudden. I wouldn't die. I couldn't die.

"Stop wailing, you'll guide them here".

She didn't. I sat still, hands in my lap, trying to think of something concrete and real, something that could take the both of us out of there… or just me. I was ready to sacrifice my own father, if that would help me live another day, and I loved Father as dearly as a princess could.

"If you really have to kneel there, then just pray the Gods".

And, Gods forgive me, did I sound unconvinced. The young woman lifted her head, still sobbing, and looked straight into my eyes. Damn her. She was trying to undo me, and I couldn't allow her to. "We're going to die, Lady Eris! Oh, what can we do?!" Damn her. Damn her. She couldn't be right.

Soon after that, I would learn another thing. Life and death aren't as dramatic as we like to imagine them. Not everyone gets a decent death scene, quite the opposite: we die like animals, without even realizing it, still clinging to the last shred of conviction that we're going to make it somehow. We don't get the time to do long speeches, to say goodbye. Shira is a good example. A few minutes, and she was to die an unimportant death.

Even if someone had told me I wouldn't have believe it, not even a few seconds before it.

I kept thinking and waiting, sitting on the bed. Thinking and waiting, with her in the background crying and speaking to me and worrying. I barely listened. I didn't reply. Instead, I just stood up when I heard the sounds of battle getting closer, and approached the library to inspection it, my heart beating in my chest wildly, everything else losing importance. There was no way to hide behind it.

"Lady Eris!" She almost shrieked. In that precise moment, for the first time in my life, I hated her. "Lady Eris! Oh, may the Gods protect us… they're here, they're here!" I glared at her, and I was shivering. I didn't even know why I was angry at her. I didn't move from the spot, just stared as she stormed to me and clinged to my legs, having fallen to the ground in a kneeling position.

Poor Shira.

"What are we going to do…" She sobbed, her slender shoulders shaking, and I didn't move. Now they really were at the door. I could hear the sound of something banging at it, rather with the intention to destroy it than to attract the attention of those inside the room. "The guards… oh, my Lady, we're done for… I don't want to die… no…" I couldn't stand hearing her, and now I know why. She was voicing my fears, the fears I didn't dare acknowledging. Now I know.

Another loud bang, and the sound of cracking wood made me sick at the stomach. They were about to enter. It would only take one second before I would see the red uniforms. Instead, I turned around while Shira uselessly crawled behind the bed, crying, chanting Benjamin's name. Help me, she said. I felt like I was about to empty my guts right there. They stepped in, I heard them, and didn't turn around.

Nothing happens until it happens.

I forced myself not to accept the idea that they were already inside until I couldn't help seeing those armours and blood-covered swords. They were circling the both of us, and I could only stand still and look at them. The one who looked like their leader spoke up, staring at me. His eyes were like black pits, or maybe I was just feeling faint again.

"Kill the maid".

I helplessly turned to look at Shira, and I'm sure I was just as shocked as she was when the swords stabbed her again and again. I couldn't see the wounds very well, but there was black blood pouring out. Her eyes rolled back into their sockets as she fell to the ground. Like a puppet.

The nausea increased. I kept trying to stare at the corpse, but the Dhorn were in front of it, and the only thing I could see was her arm. She was wearing a bracelet, it was blue. I hadn't noticed it before. Who knows why, I noticed it only then.

"This one looks like a noble…" I didn't even turn around to look at him, just staring in disbelief at what once was Shira, trying to convince myself that it wasn't her anymore. Not easy to wrap my mind around it. "Bend her over".

That's when something snapped. Now I wasn't a beholder anymore. I was forced to act, and I felt as if every movement… hurt. "Don't you even dare, Dhorn…" My heart was beating too fast. My hands were shivering. I would've rather driven a knife through my heart. That sounded like the kind of thing a queen would do. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. I would just go on my own terms…

Only, I didn't have a knife.

The next thing I knew, I was kneeling on the ground, and my arm hurt. They were forcefully keeping me in place. Their leader got close to me, and said something, and I didn't listen, and he raised his sword, and, oh Gods that couldn't be it, I had to do something…

"What are you waiting for? Strike them all down already!" I yelled towards the door. They'd never fall for it. Of course, if they came here, they must've slayed all of the other guards already…

It worked.

As the soldiers dumbly turned to face the door I managed to squirm free, my long dress making my dash to the door a bit clumsy; and yet somehow I succeeded in not falling over and got out. I wasn't sure about where to go, but the thought didn't even occur at me, at least at the moment.

What did occur to me is that I was right in thinking that they had slayed everyone. They really had. Too much red around me. Those were corpses, the corpses of men who had sworn to protect me and Father with their lives. Dead men.

While Shira's dead body had looked to me like a still living, warm thing, these made me shiver. There's something about a corpse that makes it resemble a mannequin more than anything else. Bleeding mannequins scattered all over my crazy, senseless path to salvation.

A part of my mind crawled in a corner, shivering and crying the way poor Shira had only minutes before that, and maybe that's what saved me from complete madness. The part of my brain that could feel emotions beside a desperate will to survive shut down.

Now I'm not sure whether it started functioning again with time, or it's been replaced with something else. It's probably the latter. To survive, I had to abandon everyone and everything I had ever loved. Father and Mother, and Shira, and the other maids… the old seamstress working at the castle, who was always so kind and liked to gossip while she took my measurements, the cooks who knew me since when I was a little girl, the birds I kept in a cage in my room, the books, the beautiful bed, the dresses, everything.

None of those thoughts crossed my mind as I ran like a mad woman through the rooms. None of those thoughts crossed my mind when I saw a black shadow, ran into it without managing to stop, and for a fraction of second thought that I was about to die.

Princess Eris Alastor, future Queen of Betancuria, was dead.

* * *

As I woke up, I could focus on only one thing: my head ached. I didn't get the time to wonder whether the war was only a dream or reality, simply because I couldn't even remember what had happened to me until I was too awake to misunderstand. Too awake to miss the screaming in the background. I was trembling. I couldn't remember how I had gotten in such a place, and that scared me the most.

Now I knew where I was. I'd never been there, but I knew it was a storage room of sorts, filled with crates, and surprisingly enough not dusty at all. Servants probably passed there every day – used to pass there before… I lifted myself on my elbow, and let out a distressed moan. It hurt. So much. Had I ever felt pain before? Only after a few tries I managed to stand up massaging my head, and when I saw the dark figure again I almost jumped from fear.

"Look at what a pretty little bird we have here…" His voice was deep, and it felt as if he was mocking me. It wasn't a Dhorn: no red uniform. No red at all, actually. It wasn't a servant either. I'd have known. All dressed in black, it was a tall man, of strong build, the tanned skin of his face covered in stubble. There was a harsh, arrogant virility in him. His hair was pitch black, just as his clothes were.

His eyes alarmed me the most.

"How… how did I get here?" I asked. His eyes told me to run past him and continue the crazed run for my life, but the rational part of my brain told me to stay. He would've reached me in no time. I could barely stand up still without falling from the pain, and I was tired and wearing a long dress. If he had bad intentions… who knew how much worse that would make it?

"And so… the little bird can sing. I wonder if you'd still sing, had the Dhorn caught you". Once again, I didn't like his tone. At all. I tried to stand as proudly as I could; mustering all of the dignity I knew I still had. At least at the moment. Arching a brow, I regarded him coolly. What did he want from me? Did he even know who I was?

Maybe it was better if he didn't.

"And who would you be?"

"This won't matter. The Dhorn have taken over the castle. Killed everyone in their way, chambermaids, guards, nobles…" I shivered, and he noticed that. Immediately, I wished he hadn't. His eyes now seemed to reflect a light that came from the inside. It was a mad, mad light. It only meant trouble, and I recognized it. It was the mad light of someone who wants to break something, immediately, while he still can. "Everyone's dead. Did you know Shanna? Of course you didn't". He got closer, now. A few steps and I could've felt his breath. The mere thought gave me goosebumps. "Only sixteen. Beautiful. And with eyes you could drown in. Big, innocent, brown eyes. She worked in the kitchen. She wanted me to show her the sea one day".

He didn't need to tell me of her fate. The desperate madness I could sense in him told me everything I needed to know. If I wanted to get out of there alive, I had to be condescending. That man, whoever he was, was only looking for someone to blame. Someone to break. "I am sorry about your loss", I said, carefully studying his movements. He didn't move from the spot.

"They went for the kitchens first, of course." He spat the last words with contempt, as if he tasted something rotten. "Made a mess of everything and everyone. She'll never see the ocean, now… but _at least,_" I shivered again, tried to increase the distance between us taking a step, and ended up with my back against the wall, "_at least_ King Alastor shared her fate".

Even now, I can't tell exactly what ran through my mind in that moment. I felt stupid for doubting even for a second that he would be as dead as everyone else. A part of me wondered if he had found a way to escape, instead, and this man before me was lying. Maybe they got the wrong man. But what if he really was dead? My father…dead. We had never been too close, but he loved me, in his own way. I loved him. I'd never see him again.

I was too astonished to want to cry over his departure.

"The King… really? Did he… really?"

Even I was surprised at my voice. It wasn't sad at all. Just confused.

"When he refused to hand over the castle he knew he had it coming. It was a death sentence… for him, and for everyone else inside the castle". The dark man paused, and stared right into my eyes, getting closer. "He _knew_ it".

I prayed the Gods, frantically, hoping he wouldn't recognize me as the princess. But a part of me knew he had already. "This… can't be true". Now I was starting to understand the true horror of what had happened. My father had died. I couldn't go back to my life. I couldn't have my family back.

_It_ had happened, finally.

Lost in my confused thoughts, I noticed a second too late that the man had moved, and his fingers were grasping my chin, harshly. They weren't the soft hands of the men I had known, and even those had never dared to touch me in such a way. It scared me even more than his eyes. Those callous fingers scratched my skin. He was too close now. Too close to escape him.

"So, tell me. Does the little bird have a name?"

I couldn't tell him who I was, but I couldn't find it in myself to lie. Every time I said a lie, Mother used to scold me so harshly I'd cry all night over my pillow when I was a child. She said it wouldn't be fitting for a queen to bend the truth.

I couldn't speak.

"It's a dark day… for the both of us, little bird", I stared, uselessly, at him, trying to understand. What did he want from me? I could barely breath, too scared, until he let go of my chin, and even then I didn't move. I had never been so scared all my life. "You're the only one left alive. You… and a few mice, perhaps", he went on. I could only stare and tremble.

When his gaze lowered to wander over my body, I felt the panic rising to my brain. He wasn't a noble or a general. I didn't know what to expect from such a man. Commoners… Father always told me to stay away from them. They had simple, lecherous minds. You never knew what to expect from them. I flattened myself against the wall, trying to induce submission in him as I was used to, a brow arched in a questioning manner, the usual intimidating coldness I had been taught to handle so well. For once, it wouldn't work. Unconsciously, I caressed my arms, as if to shield my body from him. Being killed by a Dhorn or being killed by that unsettling man, a commoner, of all things… what would've been worse?

"You're pretty… not as pretty as Shanna, but pretty enough". Now I didn't follow him anymore. I shook my head, my lips thinning to a line.

"You must bring me to my parents at once. They must be alive. There must've been a way they've escaped…" The panic had made me forget I didn't want to reveal my identity. I was still wearing my mask of coldness, but my mind had abandoned me.

"I told you they're all dead. Are you deaf?" He replied, spitting the words like bitter seeds, and then looked at my body once again. This time, _he_ was cold. "Take off your dress".

I will admit it, at the moment I didn't have a clear idea of his intentions. I only knew it was something lecherous, something disgusting, but my meagre knowledge of the subject didn't go into the details of what was to come. Mother had always been careful about what kind of books entered my room. I could feel my eyes widening slightly from the surprise, and could only mouth a weak "what" before he grabbed my dress and tore it off with a few cuts of his dagger.

I was upset the most about my dress, at least for a few seconds. It was my favourite. Dark, intense blue and gold. The colours of Betancuria. It fell at my feet, torn away. My undergarments followed, and I tried to push him away with a hand, uselessly covering myself with the other.

He grabbed my wrists. He was too strong, he was hurting me, and there was no way I could snake away from his grip. I glared up at him; horrified, hoping that at least my long, long hair would grant me the dignity of being partially covered. I imagined myself clawing through his face, and for some reason the thought was awfully pleasing.

"You're mine, now… by rights of what your father did to Shanna". So he had recognized me. How unlucky. I kept struggling, and he bumped me forcefully against the wall, making me hit my head, trying to get me to stand still. "You stupid cunt… do you think you're an eel or what? Stand still. I'm gonna cut that pretty little throat of yours wide open if you don't stop moving, I promise". Me, allowing him to violate me without opposing to it? Was he stupid or what?

I wanted to live, but if I could choose, I'd rather kill myself than let him do that. Die while I still held onto my last shred of dignity. That was what a queen would've done. That was what other queens had done before me.

Too bad I couldn't reach to his dagger. It was pressing at my throat. I could feel burning, and a trickle of blood running over my skin. It hurt.

No, I had to be the one doing it. Not him. I had to take that blade from him…

I kept struggling, while he held both of my wrists with one hand, and seeing that I wouldn't give up, he threw me to the ground with a groan, shaking his head. The stony pavement against me… my head hurt even more now. Once again, I felt sick, and everything was spinning. As he unlaced his pants and pushed me to the floor, forcing my legs open, I managed to gather enough energy to struggle again and fight him back, tears of rage and shame running down my cheeks.

If I died, would I wake up in a place where I could still see my parents, where I could still live peacefully?

"I warned you, just stand still!" He growled, rage in his voice. I couldn't see his face. I was too busy madly pushing him away, and later trying to free my hands from his grip. I wouldn't give in. I wouldn't give in so easily.

I locked eyes with him the moment I lifted my leg, my knee hitting him in the groin with all my strength. That would teach the scoundrel. I heard him groaning in pain, and grinned triumphantly…

But his grip on my wrists only tightened.

"You… bitch!" He managed to growl, slapping me hard with his free hand. Twice. Three times, until I was forced to stand still. My head hit the ground once again, and it _hurt_, oh, Gods, it hurt so much… my vision blurred, but wasn't granted the mercy of passing away.

He pressed himself into me, and I imagined myself decapitating him. He thrust ahead, every movement of his making my body burn in pain, and I imagined myself grabbing that dagger of his and driving it between his legs, again and again. He kept me still as his hips slammed against mine, and I imagined myself clawing his eyes out and leaving him for the crows to feast upon, bound and crying in pain.

Soon enough, I told myself. Soon.

* * *

It took longer than I would've imagined, and still it mustn't have been a long time. Everything of me was sore. Everything of me felt dirty. I was laying on what was left of my dress, and when I sat up, I could see it between my legs. Blood was dripping down. _Red_ blood and _white_ semen staining the _blue_ and _golden_ fabric. _Oh, the irony._

"Alright…" He begun, clearing his throat. I didn't look at him. I covered myself with my hands, outraged tears running down my face. Every time a drop fell from my chin, to my breasts, I shivered and sobbed. "I know this was rough, and perhaps your tiny brain will never get over it". _Him tied up and thrown in a pit of rabid dogs_. Nice. "However, think of this. Had I not been here in this damned castle, this damned moment, you'd probably be up for a really busy night. Or you'd just be hacked to pieces". _Him, with each of his limbs tied to a different horse, drawn and quartered_. Real nice. "Either way, I'd say those few minutes on the floor were an okay price for your life". _Me over him, strangling him with my bare hands_.

"… really…?" I muttered. He raised his head, surprised, and I looked up at him, smirking, even though weakly. He'd suffer for what he had done to me. Soon. "Really, you scoundrel?! Go to hell", I growled out, my voice husky from all the pain and the crying. He probably didn't expect that. He laughed, and that made me even more infuriated.

"Well you're a fierce little one. Would've guessed most princesses would be devastated to lose their precious maidenhood this way. Whatever. Let's get out of here. Someone is coming."

And after all he had done to me, he was still so certain of the truth of his words to offer me to get away together. The filthy, filthy bastard… I stared at him from the floor, not moving from my spot. I didn't even care that someone else was coming. "Go to hell!"

"Yeah, sure, just stay here and rot. Or throw yourself at the Dhorn, whatever". He shrugged, putting his dagger back into its place. Had it still been on the ground when we were done, I would've tried to drive it through his chest.

"To hell with you, you disgusting animal!"

I don't think he liked that. He stared at me. I was panicking. What would I do now? I wanted him dead, sure, but how…? Should I have just followed him and waited for the right moment to strike? No, I just couldn't stand the thought of staying close to him…

That's when he hit my head again and I lost consciousness.


	2. The Painful Aftermath

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 

Woah, it took a while, but it's finally here. The second chapter. I must admit I'm not as happy with this one as with the first one, but I've honestly had enough with modifying it. My beta-reader, poor guy, has been busy as hell, so the grammar may... fail here and there. Feel free to point out any mistake you find, I'll fix them in no time.

About the content... this one is pretty safe, compared to the first one, but there might be some hints to violence, nudity and bad language. Not much dialogue or action here... just memories and reflections on the people around Eris. Let's just call it the calm before the storm, with a little explanation on the side about how Eris started walking on the rogue's path.

As always, I hope you'll enjoy this. Thank you for your time!

* * *

**The Painful Aftermath**

I was greeted in my awakening by a loud ringing noise, cold shivers and a sense of utter helplessness. This time I could actually wonder what had happened, where I was, how had I gotten there, and the more I stared at the still blurry images around me, wide eyed and devoid of energy, the more I felt the nausea creeping back to my guts, and my temples starting to pulsate with dull, ancient pain. The rest of my body felt numb. I was terrified of moving just to awaken more pained, strained spots, and even if I wanted to, I probably couldn't have lifted a finger, at least at the moment. Everything that had happened until then… it had been too much, both for my body and my mind.

Now I was awake and most definitely not dreaming, in an unknown place. Someone was holding me to his chest, and I dreaded the thought of discovering who it was enough not to force my heavy head up and check. I had a very clear idea of who it could be, anyways. Those rough hands, scratching, tainting my skin… I focused on finding out where I was, and eventually how to escape.

I discovered myself to be in a warm room, which to my eyes, far too accustomed to luxury, looked dreadfully poor. Only partially covered by the stranger's cloak, I shivered when I realized that I still wasn't wearing any clothing, and that another man was in the room, examining me with a serious look in his eyes. I struggled to fight the numb apathy and cover myself with my hands, clumsily, still finding it difficult to move. They were speaking, but in my dazed state most of the words were unclear. Forcing myself to pay attention, I realized, with a deep sense of horror, that they were discussing my fate. Mere… commoners discussing my future in front of me, as if I was nothing more than a steed to be sold!

Before I was able to open my mouth and demand an explanation and some clothes, though, I crossed eyes with the other man. That man… was going to be my blessing and my curse, and I think that even in that moment, the instant I allowed his eyes to find mine, I suspected the importance he was going to have for me in the future. How he would influence me, though, I could never have imagined. He was an elder, but his eyes were those of a man with no age, too mature for a boy, too steady for an old man. He looked at me with a stern, blunt frown, and I think I spotted something very much alike compassion in his eyes for a second. It was impossible to believe that a man with such eyes would be able to sell me to the Dhorn. I can't remember what he said, but it didn't matter to me at the time, I only stared at him as I slowly managed to get a grip on what had happened to me until that moment. His name was Nathan Geigers, and following his shadow I was to walk a long way into the darkness.

* * *

I was entrusted in the hands of a tall, big woman, after the elder – _Nathan, Master Nathan -_ stated that I would be working in the kitchens of that place from that moment on. I would've never guessed it was an inn or a restaurant, but then again, I had never seen one in my whole life. The idea of spending my next days scrubbing pots and washing dishes was revolting to me, but did I have any choice? I didn't want to be seen from the enemy, not so soon at least, while the memory of the attack was still fresh in their minds, and I had been lucky enough to have been brought there… by that…

I hadn't caught his name. My teeth clenched as I thought about him, and, despite my best efforts, I found myself sobbing as the woman bent over me and soothingly spoke to me.

"There, there, child, it's going to be alright… You poor thing…" I proudly sneaked out of her arms, not used at all to such displays of affection and pity, and only then I realized that she had brought me to a room with a large wooden bathtub. I turned around, a questioning look on my face. It was… weirdly sweet of that woman. That wasn't my wonderful golden bathtub, or the marble pool, or the pretty lake in the courtyard… but the water was still water, and I needed it so much. I felt filthy. More. I felt as if I was rotting from the inside out. I stopped crying.

"Chella will take care of you, don't you worry about that", she continued, guiding me to the tub and urging me to enter. I obeyed, passively, thoughtful, allowing her to wash my body, as I felt too tired to even move a finger. Her fingers were rough too, but her touch was gentle, and her voice was, too; still, there was something intimidating in the way she acted, the pose and tone of a woman used to giving orders to people, somewhat similar to my own. She had an expressive face, and round cheeks that would still look plump on a body as fragile as mine. I allowed a little time to pass in silence, as she looked at me with anxiety and helped me get clean, before I decided I had to speak. I had to know more about my situation.

"Who was that man?" My voice was hard, maybe a bit too much. Lost in thought, I had looked away from the woman standing at my side, and I probably surprised her with the coldness I displayed, because she took a little while to respond. Enough time to make me realize how silent everything was. I would've never imagined the city after such a terrible battle would be so silent… of course, assuming we were still inside the city and not at the outskirts. Not that I'd have known. I had been unconscious the whole time I was being carried there and… I chocked a sob even before it reached my throat at all, surprised by how detached I could act while everything was going in pieces around me.

"Who, Nathan? Oh, don't worry about him, child. That old bear is a good man. He's not going to allow anybody to hurt you, you're safe with us". I felt a thumb pressing in my cheek, shoving away a tear I hadn't realized shedding. I felt so tired…

"Not him". The bastard who had brought me there wasn't a good man. I turned my head slowly, finally staring at her, and seeing the look in her eyes made me want to scream, to cry. What was happening to me wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to be that way. I was supposed to go my way, and nothing, nothing was going my way, nothing at all, and…

And I was tired. Gods, I was so tired.

"You mean Vico, then? He is…" She gasped, and I realized that I had started shivering. My voice was as cold as ever, my face as blank as ever, but the rest of my body was screaming in horror, and nobody would miss that even by just looking at me. Wearing a mask wouldn't change what had happened to me. "Oh sweet heavens, dear, did he… ?"

"I don't want to talk about it. Just… his name", I hissed, without letting her finish. Now I knew his name. I had no idea about how that was going to bring the day of his painful demise closer, but deep under my faltering body, my numbed emotions, my dull resignation, I felt the tiniest glimpse of triumph. Everything was silent for a while more. There wasn't much else to say. The woman by my side, Chella… poor Chella was probably trying to decide how to handle me, and I had nothing more to ask. I just wanted to sleep, to stop thinking, and the water was helping.

Now I wonder how many times I had to die that night, and the day after it, and the day after that too, and every day since then. Looking back, it's either as if a piece of the person I used to be died with every new trial I was to face, or as if the Princess, the Future Queen of Betancuria, Only Heir to the Glorious Throne of Alastor and so on, and so on, and so on, was slowly agonizing until all that was left was a ghost.

I am a ghost, now. I could be behind you, and you probably wouldn't even notice unless I want you to. I could be right in front of you, slipping poison in your drink, and you wouldn't suspect a thing, and as soon as you turn away I'd be gone forever. Locked doors don't stop me anymore. I am more comfortable in the darkness than you could ever be in the daylight, and I've bonded with more shadows than you could count, haunted more rooms than you could imagine… but I digress.

What I meant to say is, there was yet another thing I had to leave behind, and as silly as it sounds, it was painful. Chella sighed before standing up, looking through a set of drawers, turning her back to me, and spoke again, this time sounding more… domineering, more determined. Given time, I'd hear more of that tone, and I'd learn to love it, but the part of me that was used to commanding others found it irritating. "We're going to have to cut your hair some, child. Dye it, too. I do realize not many have seen you up close, dear, but we can't take this risk, it's for your own good".

I widened my eyes. Of course, I hadn't thought about it. I had never showed up often in public, but how many women in Betancuria had hair like mine? Long, reaching my mid-thighs, wave after wave of copper hair. Even my personal maids, whose duties were hardly more difficult than brushing my hair or turning my music sheet while I played the harp, never allowed their own hair to grow too long. It would require too much care, and they hadn't got the time for that, while I had that, and the time of several servants, and the most refined ointments. I slowly nodded to myself. That had to happen, too. The pretty locks had to go. Heavens, my maidenhood had been brutally violated, my home stormed by enemy soldiers, my loved ones slaughtered, my whole life destroyed, and now I was busy feeling sad over a few locks of hair! Thinking about that, some kind of resignation muffled everything else.

Chella's hands held the scissors that cut it. Chella's fingers rubbed the dark, thick blend that soon caused my head to feel slightly itchy and my hair to look as black as the night sky. I didn't speak much after that. I slept the whole night, even though the bed wasn't mine, even though the sheets felt like sandpaper and the mattress was hard.

I was going to get used to it with time.

* * *

The next few days I spent there… I don't remember much of them. I do know that I first touched a pot, though, and that the sight of it, still encrusted with the remainders of food, so dirty… it made me feel repulsed, of course. I don't remember ever mentioning it though. It took me a while to learn how to do it, but soon I was very glad I could scrub and wash pots and dishes. They looked much better when they were clean, and with my arms aching, my fingers soaked to the bone and wrinkly, my eyes focused only to the task at hand, I didn't have to think.

Heavens, I had never worked in my whole life! Even holding my arms up to the sink was a hard job to me. I didn't speak for days, though, and Chella didn't mention the night I arrived. Never again. She helped me out, taught me how to do my job, and spared now and then a gentle word to me, a smile. They were sad smiles, but they were… encouraging. For the most part, though, she was busy with running the kitchen, giving orders and keeping the cooks focused on their work.

Then I started to notice the discussions of the others who worked around me. They reached my ears, even though I ignored everyone that wasn't Chella, and soon I was torn away from that comfortable state of numbness. Those voices… those rumours…

The Queen has killed herself, they said. Some said she drove a knife through her heart, some others said she used the sword of the officers who were threatening her life and virtue to cut her own throat. Some said she had spoken hard words to her attackers before doing so, some said she screamed in terror, and some said she had cried. I knew my mother well enough to be able to see the scene playing in my head though, or maybe, like a child, like a daughter, I still liked to idealize her figure. Mother is sitting at her writing desk, her eyes closed. The moment the Dhorn enter the room, breaking the door down, she presses her knife, her beautiful knife to her heart. She doesn't even change expression, doesn't even open her eyes. She doesn't slice her throat open, she doesn't want to bleed all over the dress, she's too clean for that. Mother wasn't heroic, but she was brave; she probably had it planned the moment she understood we were going to lose. That scene played in my head again and again before I fell asleep, and because of that… I couldn't sleep through my life anymore.

They had put the heads of the royal family members on display, they said another day. Those mornings when you wake up to the soft daylight, and still pretend to be sleeping until someone shifts the curtains, until you can't ignore the light anymore… that was the shifting of the curtains to me. I was wide awake, now. I started speaking again, and I remember well the first words I said.

"Chella… may I go to see them… please?" The others weren't listening to us, and so nobody noticed the surprise on her face. We stared at each other, and she patted my cheek briskly but gently, shaking her head. The fact that she was refusing didn't bother me, and deep down I knew she was right. As nauseating as the thought was… their severed heads were probably rotting under the falling rain… and I didn't want to see them like that. And even then, as far as I knew, it was only the heads of my parents. Then how did they explain the fact that my body wasn't found…?

Of course, they probably suspected I had escaped. I shivered, and decided that, after all, waiting a while more before going out in the city wasn't that bad.

* * *

I'm not sure I'll ever get used to the kind of clothes I was forced to wear by the circumstances. The… uniform of sorts for the kitchen girls consisted in a dress with a short skirt, stockings and shoes, and I think I've spent the first two or three days I wore it pulling the skirt down. The fabric never seemed enough to cover me up, and I definitely wasn't used to showing my legs to just anyone. Still, it was comfortable, and the kitchen was usually far too hot to wear anything more. I didn't have a mirror anymore, but in the room I shared with the other kitchen girls we were allowed to have a wooden tub. It's funny, because it seemed a great luxury to the others, while I found it slightly annoying that the water was never warm enough, never clean enough, and once or twice I had to remove a splinter from my fingers.

I looked at my image reflected in the water, now and then, and I could barely recognize myself. My face had lost radiance, there was something stiff in it that wasn't there before, something tight and dark. My hair was messy, and would probably never be as soft as it used to be before. My skin was as pale as wax and dry. My hands, strained by the hard work I had never known before, were starting to get less delicate, more calloused, and the many cuts and burns seemed to harden my skin. I felt ugly, which annoyed me, I felt clumsy and inappropriate to the role I was playing, and more than anything else, I felt trapped.

Now that I could think properly, I certainly hadn't abandoned my plans for the future, and I was getting restless waiting for the moment to act.

The first thing, of course, was to get revenge. That man… Vico, he was going to suffer. He may not have been the one who caused me the most harm, I can see that clearly now, but he was the only one who had dared to do that directly until then. I wanted him dead, and I wanted to be the one to kill him, I was more than ready – or at least I thought so – to be the one to give him the fatal blow. Somehow, I would've found him and killed him. It sounded easy at the time.

Then came the hardest part. I wanted my reign back. I had to travel, to get allies, maybe to stir a rebellion… that would keep the Dhorn busy while allies from the outside attacked and… that plan had more flaws than anything else, but the more I daydreamed about it, the more I added details, and the more details I added, the more it felt possible.

The problem was, of course, that I wasn't allowed to even get out of the kitchen, and while I've always been a patient woman, the only thing that kept me alive and breathing, the hunger for righteous revenge, was also making me increasingly restless.

But apart from plans, apart from dreams, there's another important thing I have to talk about. I haven't spent my whole time at the Bear Pit plotting the deaths of a thousand men. There were people too… people I loved, people I despised, but most of all, people who never deserved what happened to them. I wasn't the only one hating and suffering, and I'll never be. That's what that place, as much as I disliked it, taught me. The Bear Pit was only the beginning, but without that, I would've never become the thing I am now. I may not be the Princess anymore, but when I scream for revenge, when I get my hands sticky with blood and my eyes filled with dying faces I'll see in every nightmare, I want to scream for the revenge of my people. No… I want to scream for the revenge of my fellow citizens of Betancuria.

* * *

When I started plotting again, I also started looking around again, observing other people, trying to understand them better. If I had to pretend to be a kitchen girl, I had to learn how to act like one… that was my excuse. The truth was, I was curious. I had never been around commoners. The maids at the castle were certainly not nobles, but they had been taught to act with a certain grace and refinement, to look away and shut up at the right moment… commoners were unrestrained. Sometimes I found them laughably simple, and some other times I envied a little of their strength.

Laughable or not, they taught me a lot more than I care to admit.

Take Silia and Kellia, for example. The twins. How old were they, fourteen? Fifteen maybe? They were sickly thin, and those blue eyes of theirs were too big for their tiny heads. They looked awkward, always, like one of those big birds with huge wings and a body too small. Clumsy, without a shred of elegance. That's what I noticed first.

Then I took a good look at their eyes. It doesn't happen often to understand a person by just looking at them the right way, but it had happened with Master Nathan, and it happened again with them. Those huge, blue eyes were empty. They were numb. Like me. They rarely spoke, just like me, and I think I spotted signs on their bodies that… told a story. I was never able to discover what had happened to them, but everyone at the very least suspected the cause. It was the same for everybody, anyways.

Kellia and Silia, with their golden ringlets, always running around the kitchen, never stopping for even a second, never allowing the thoughts to take over. They spoke even less to each other than to the others, and that… seemed less strange to me than I would've thought. It seemed right. They knew each other so well, they knew what had happened and what would their life be in the future, and that was enough. They didn't allow themselves to hope. Hope for what? For a decent marriage, maybe, a husband that would treat them with the slightest trace of respect? What could they hope for?

That's why I… acted nicely to them. I never asked them any question, I never told them anything important, but we tried not to be in each other's way. There was, between us, the silent understanding that might form amongst the survivors of the same shipwreck. We may not have anything in common, and may want to live our own lives, as far as possible from each other, but we know that we went through the same trials, and so we just say "may I pass", "have a nice day", "of course, here it is", but we don't ask questions.

Nobody wants to be reminded certain things.

* * *

Men take it differently, but not necessarily better. Take Danny and Wally, the cooks, for example. Wally… Wally scared me at first. He's one of those men who, when things get hard and the others start to lose hope around them, try to liven up things, crack up a joke, and fail miserably at lightening up the mood, because maybe, deep inside, they're just as tired as the others. I didn't understand it, felt mocked at first. Then I knew him better.

Wally had lost someone too, in the attack. I never knew whether it was a wife, or a son, or a daughter, or all of them, but he had. Just like everyone else. He had been working there for his whole life, and now the kitchen was all he had left. He was delighted when I started to greet him back in the morning, even though I never managed to be cheerful when I did. I've been told he looked at the kitchen girls lecherously, but I think he only wanted some company. He was simple like that, and cared about simple things. If he couldn't find happiness in the warmth of a family, then he had to look for it in the smile of a friend, and if it wasn't that, at least in his own job or in the short skirt of a kitchen girl.

Danny was the opposite, so it's no wonder they kept fighting, but I think that deep inside they were grateful for that too. It made them feel alive. It was some kind of routine, even I looked for a new routine when mine was broken. It made us feel safe. Danny was silent unless you spoke to him first, and rarely ever laughed, always hiding behind the wall of gloom, but he was nice to us. He, too, knew we were victims, just like him. All survivors of the same tragedy, all with at least one relative, at least one friend who was gone forever thanks to the invasion.

* * *

Trissa… it took me more time to understand Trissa, and I'm honestly not sure I ever will. She was a pretty girl, probably older than me, and looked much more natural and much more at ease in the same situations I felt so clumsy in. Even with a dirty dress and ruined fingernails, I could tell she was pretty. She probably could, too, and took full advantage of it… if I hadn't gotten the distinct impression that they had been her downfall, I'd say her good looks were her salvation.

She didn't seem to work hard at the dishes, instead seemed to pay a lot more attention to the people who worked around and in the kitchen. She always had a raised eyebrow for anyone who annoyed her, and a loving smile for any man who paid attention to her. At first, she probably saw me as a threat, but seeing that I had little to no interest in what was instead the target of her greatest efforts, she started ignoring me.

Trissa may be the kind of woman who needs protection, always. She wasn't dumb at all, knew that the attention of the right man could mean a lot in the future, but her mistake was to spread the efforts in all directions, never focusing on one in particular. I've seen what she did with men, hiding behind the crates, every sound hushed as if they were committing a crime. I walked in to see some errand boy or another busying himself between her legs, and quickly disappeared, the sight startling me. It puzzled me how any girl could actively seek something like that, especially after what Vico had done to me, but she… enjoyed the attentions. To me, it was quite ridiculous from the outside, and disgusting to think myself in her position. Then I remembered that night, and forgot about Trissa and her precious boys, and started daydreaming again. We didn't care for each other, to put it simply.

But she had her share of bad memories too. Every single one of us did, we just… showed in a different way. She may have been an annoying wench, and I'll admit I found her every bit as irritating as she grew to find me, but she didn't deserve what had happened. Not even her.

* * *

There's still one person missing.

Caron.

I'm not sure I feel comfortable talking about him. So many things happened, and they still hurt… they still hurt too much to think about. I might be a masochist, but I don't want to forget him. I don't want to forget any of the things that happened, not even a detail, even when they hurt to even just remember. And he deserves to be remembered. But yes, I suppose I should speak about him.

He started showing up a while after I started my new life, and at first I wasn't sure what exactly his business around there was. He moved crates, did some errands now and then, and then spent the rest of the day fooling around with the maids and the kitchen girls. Chella and the cooks seemed to know him well, so I immediately assumed that he had been working there since well before the siege. He didn't seem very preoccupied with working, though.

The first few times I hadn't paid much attention to him, but I had… noticed him. He was so loud and lively, how could you miss him when his laughter filled the whole room? Plus, he was about my age, and that made me curious about him. The other men I had known until then were all much older or much younger than me. I think he had noticed me too, but Trissa kept him busy enough. Then, one evening, she was still working, and we spoke for the first time. He asked me my name, and I replied to him while I washed my hands, tired because of another long day spent working.

"Eris? Eris like the princess? It suits you." He smiled at me, and I turned around, sighing.

"No, not Eris like the princess. Just Eris". He laughed at my words, recognizing the dry sarcasm in them, but clearly missing the melancholy. I can't blame him for that. He didn't know. There were so many things he didn't know. I didn't walk away from him, and he took that as an invite. I suppose it was, after all.

"I'm Caron", he introduced himself, cleared his throat, and instead of asking me where Trissa was as I expected him to he just smirked, gesturing towards a small table where people working there used to chill after work. "You're not busy, are you?"

I wasn't, and I sat with him. That evening, when Trissa came, she was a little disappointed, but didn't mention it the morning later, and just sat with us. We spoke of what happened around the kitchen, and Caron kept joking… and a few times I smiled along with them.

He was too bold, and maybe that's why he made me smile. He had the dirtiest mind, and rarely managed to speak a pair of minutes straight without embarrassing me, but he was never vulgar. Before I knew it, I got used to his presence, and to spending the evening around him before going to bed. Caron utterly lacked tact and restraints, wasn't courteous or attractive, and those little metal rings he had on his earlobes looked fairly gross to me, but… suddenly, I cared for him, and started looking forward to the light hearted conversations I could have with him. I was still detached, still found it difficult to feel close to the people around me, but he made me smile, and the mere fact that I wasn't shying away from him was enough to show him that I appreciated his presence.

* * *

Then one night he called me closer to him, alone, looking sneakier than usual. I silently approached him, questioningly looking at him, and the sight of his bold grin confirmed my suspicion. He had something to share with me, and he seemed to find it quite interesting. "What is it?" I asked him, and arched a brow when he looked around before speaking. We were alone.

"Say, Eris. Do you have any experience with… sticking your hands in… places… where they really, really shouldn't belong?" I widened my eyes, with no idea about how to interpret his words, and shook my head in disbelief; noticing I didn't catch up with his double entendre and instead just stared at him without saying a thing, he burst out laughing. "I mean pickpocketing, just pickpocketing! Well, do you?"

"Uhm, no, certainly not. Why would you even ask me?" I was a little outraged, wondering whether I should take it as an insult. He just smiled, and I relaxed a little, but I felt still on edge, not knowing what to expect from him.

"I'm just asking! You have… dexterous fingers, alright? And it would do you good to learn".

"I seriously doubt I'm going to need that, but thank you for your compliment", I briefly concluded, trying to excuse myself. Instead, he stopped me, amused by my suspicious reactions. I would've never guessed he was a cutpurse, having always imagined those as ugly, dirty, despicable fellows… the books, at least, had taught me so. But Caron? Caron was nice, he was… funny, too, and he didn't act like the kind of person who'd kill a man to get to his wallet.

"Oh, come on! I swear I'm going to make this fun, alright? It's just to play around, you don't have to go in the street and rob old ladies. It's just… to do something fun together, something different". The look on his face was honest, and I sat back down. I was willing to try.

A princess turned kitchen girl, learning how to pickpocket from an errand boy. That had to be one of the weirdest things possible, and the idea still makes me smile. It was all so innocent back then…

* * *

It turned out that he was mostly doing that to get his hands down my skirt, but he didn't insist... much. I was more annoyed with him than offended, and he laughed it off, playfully mocking me before dropping the topic completely. That's how I begun learning things that most noble ladies shouldn't know… as a joke. After the first time, a second one came, and after a while, it wasn't just pickpocketing anymore. He taught me how to open locks with a pin, how to recognize different kinds of locks and safety mechanisms, and how to move swiftly enough to grab something in another person's pocket or at their belt. All in all, it was entertaining, and at first I didn't really think it would help me, just thought of it as a way to spend time while I waited for the moment to go outside to come.

Caron and I were growing close, too. Him and Chella were the only ones who could cause me to smile, and soon enough he was the only one I felt really comfortable speaking to, even when he mocked me or made me flush with embarrass with one of his dirty jokes, even when he dared to assume I wouldn't mind his hand on my rear end while he tried to distract me by talking about the weirdest things he had ever found in a man's pocket.

"… And he had these weird finger puppets… Who walks around with finger puppets in their pockets? Especially someone as shady looking as that guy! I bet he was one of those bastards who like them… young, you know? Oh, and there was this other man who…"

"Are you seriously… stop that, Caron!" I moved away from him, briskly, just to meet his smiling face. I should've slapped him, but I didn't. Still, I should've. Every single time.

"Sorry, sorry. I got carried away", he apologized, though the grin threatening to escape his lips warned me that he didn't feel sorry at all, and the heat running to my cheeks warned me that I didn't feel too sorry either. My upbringing and what had happened to me in the past prevented me from wanting anything more from Caron than a warm smile and nice conversation, at least consciously, but…

I will admit it. I liked Caron. I liked to know that he'd be there almost every evening, even just to talk, and I liked to know that even though I wasn't wearing a wonderful velvet dress and my hair was messy, he still kept telling me I had the prettiest smile he'd ever seen and that I should laugh more often. I liked to know that he didn't know who I was, and he still found it worthwhile to spend a whole evening just speaking with me. I liked to know that even though I had caught him now and then with Trissa he'd always come back to talk to me. I wasn't jealous, I didn't envy her… not much at least. What was important to me was that Caron liked to be with me just as much as I did.

At the same time, though, I felt more and more the need to run away from that place. I had to move on, to free myself… I had to chose. Would I end up spending the rest of my life working in the kitchens, hiding from the Dhorn, maybe irremediably falling in love with someone who would've been hanged for even trying to look lustfully at me if my parents were still alive? Or would I run, and fight to get back what belonged to me by rights of birth and merit?

Then one night I noticed that I could easily pick the lock of the window downstairs, and without thinking too much, I tried my luck. I just wanted to see whether I was capable of doing it…

It turned out that I still had a lot to learn.


	3. Once Again, From the Beginning

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here I am, with a new chapter. I'm sorry it took so long, but I hope that you'll enjoy reading it, and that that will make up for the long wait.

In this chapter, Eris is caught, and she has a couple of important conversations the morning later, plus a few other ones. This chapter will involve foul, explicit language (courtesy of Trissa, mostly), and sexual harassment. You've been warned.

I can't wait to know what you think about it... feel free, as always, to point out any mistake and awkward wording!

* * *

**Once Again, from the beginning**

I had no experience with ghosts, yet.

I was fumbling with the lock, uncaring about the noise. There was no reason to be careful about such things, to me, as the nearest person was probably sleeping, and a floor above me – the ceiling would do what my hands couldn't do yet, and stifle every sound. I still wasn't sure about what I was going to do, once I could step outside, but one thing I knew for sure: there was something out there that pulled me, a string attached to my chest that made my heart ache and my fingers shiver with excitement. A voice from the castle, echoing. Running through the dead halls, haunting them, just waiting for me…

That imaginary ghost's voice was too loud for me to hear the real one pushing the trapdoor above his head, lift himself up, and silently approach me. Back then, bless what's left of my soul, my hearing wasn't sharper than a hammer – and faced with a… _professional_, let's say, I could've been easily stalked close to and overpowered, in the shadows of a silent night. Thinking back, I am rather embarrassed; despite everything that happened to me, I still wasn't alert enough to notice the creaking of wood and faint sounds of boots sliding on the floor with ease. That is something I grew familiar with, in time, for it was exactly what could've betrayed me… but I had much to learn. And so much to go through.

A shiver ran up my thigh, deliberately slowly, snaking under my skirt before resting on my hip: fingers were grasping me, and I gasped, nearly losing my grip on the hairpin. I turned around with terror in my eyes and my heart threatening to choke me, beating so fast, filling my throat with a death-like dread, but I was too slow. Another hand grabbed my wrist, pulling it painfully hard behind my back, and causing me to abandon the crooked hairpin and let it meet the pavement with a barely audible sound; I was pulled towards the figure in the shadows, smelling a scent that stirred memories I had been, until then, picking at stubbornly, like scabs. The wound still fresh, I recognized the cheap wine, liquor, ashes, rain… blood. I grew pale, shook my head, and tried to speak, to no avail, and his breath on my neck tickled as he chuckled, the low, mocking laughter which tore apart my nightmares.

There was a moment of silence; the darkness didn't allow him to see my facial features so easily, and so he pulled me away from the window, causing me to carefully balance my steps as I looked around, in search for a way to escape. Then, a cloud shifted in the grey night sky, allowing the moonlight to bathe the both of us. I saw the surprise on his face, and, for a moment, Vico looked as lost as I did, and just as nervous. "Birdie…" He muttered under his breath, doubt floating in his eyes as he considered what to do, but his face hardened quickly, and he slammed me hard with my chest against the wall, earning another panicked gasp from me.

For all my rage and hate, I couldn't fight him back. I was too scared, and I could barely keep standing, for my shaky legs threatened to abandon me every second more. With my chest pressed against the wooden wall, I glared back at him, panting, the outrage and terror fighting over my mind and ripping my thoughts to shreds. The cloud shifted again, and I could only see a faint silhouette in the shadows. "I should've recognized those wide hips…" He whispered again, almost with anger, though I'm not sure whether it was directed to me or to himself… or both. Soon enough, his tone had turned back to his usual mocking one. "I thought I had caught a treacherous bitch in the act, and here I find that I've just caught a _cub_. Planning a late night walk? I'm sure the Dhorn patrols would be delighted to see you."

His vulgar words somehow gave me the strength to spit back a reply at him, though I couldn't move, and I wasn't sure I had the power to. "Get those disgusting hands off me, you cur!" Words which sounded more scared than angered to me, too, and most definitely weren't enough to make him let go of his prey. He answered them by pressing himself against me, hips rolling against my bottom, a low growl filling my ear, effectively trapping me. I prayed he would let go of me, I prayed all the Gods, and even the demons, that there wouldn't be a repeat of the night we met. I wanted him dead, but I found that I was just too scared to even try and struggle out of his grip, now. I felt even weaker than during that blasted night.

That was wrong, Gods. That was unfair.

"You were about to do something terribly stupid, Birdie. Do you realize that?" He paused, as if explaining something to a particularly difficult child, pulling back only enough to allow me to breath easily. "Was it up to me, you'd get more than a good spanking", he added, a hint of amusement in his voice, and the hand that wasn't twisting my arm took pleasure in my new clothing, the skirt granting him easy access, groping me mercilessly for a couple of painfully long seconds before letting go of me, a frustrated grunt escaping his throat. I turned around, as quick as a dart, and flattened myself against the wall, ready to flee the scene at the first sign of danger, wishing the darkness would allow me to read his expression.

"Just try it, scum… try it, and I'll rip your eyes out!" I growled at him, hollow threats ringing deafly through the room, my heart beating so hard in my chest that I feared it would explode. He chuckled again, shook his head, and lazily walked back up to me, casually getting closer.

"You really are a fierce little thing. Black hair suits you." He commented, causing my shivers to increase, running cold down my spine, and then grabbed my arm again, which still pulsated with the ache of his grip. "You're lucky I'm not in the mood, right now. I'm bringing you to Nathan, and don't you ever try this again. You'd get yourself killed… and that would be a waste of a perfectly fine ass."

* * *

I spent the rest of the night motionless in my bed, my teeth gritted in pure hate, trembling from head to toes. I had no idea that seeing Vico again would have such an effect on me… all of those thoughts of revenge didn't account for the sheer terror his presence awakened in me. I was angry, and mostly at myself. I knew well that even if I had fought back I couldn't have harmed him in any way, but, instead of escaping, I had done nothing but cowering behind a frail veil of intimidations.

Had he wanted to, he could've done it again. And I couldn't have done anything to avoid that.

My thoughts were confused, heavily soaked with the lack of sleep and the darkness, and the terrible silence only increased the anxiety that tore me apart. Only partially conscious at times, I kept praying for sleep to come and put me out of my misery, but I kept going back at the events of the last few weeks, and, my fingernails digging mercilessly through my palms, I kept myself awake until the first lights of dawn made the cloudy sky only duller.

My encounter with Nathan – and Chella – had been brief, and I was too busy glaring at the scum who had found me to take note of the way they looked at me. As grateful as I was to them for how they had agreed to hide me and protect me, I didn't care much for how they felt about my actions, not when by my side, his hand grasping my shoulder with a familiarity that made me want to spit in his face, was Vico, the main target of my hatred.

Ironically, I managed to fall into a confused, feverish sleep only when it was already day, and, probably because Chella knew of what had happened that night, nobody came to awaken me that morning, to force me to those which had become my duties. No dreams plagued me, at least, but it's safe to say that those few hours of slumber had done nothing to make me feel better, and, actually, may have worsened my situation.

I woke up alone in the room I had been assigned, the noises and voices from the kitchen making me understand that it was probably late in the morning, tangled sheets around my almost naked, sweat covered forms, feeling gloomier than usual. I managed to stumble out of bed and made my way to the tub, a fit of nausea very nearly causing me to trip as I did, and started filling it immediately, as if it was a compulsion I couldn't fight back, not even bothering to bring the water to the kitchen fire to warm it up. Thoughtlessly. Wiggling out of my clothes, I managed to slip inside, and, ignoring the chill from the cold water, I washed myself thoroughly, not realizing that it was mostly Vico's filth I was trying to wash away, and not the sweat of that night… but that had, at least, the effect of waking me up completely, so that a slight weakness, dark rings around my eyes and a couple of bruises on my wrists were the only trace of what had happened. Fighting the urge to scratch over those blue marks to erase them from my sight, I put on some clothes and went outside, trying not to let the look on my face betray me.

As I imagined, as soon as I was out, all eyes were upon me. Nobody seemed to be planning to approach me, for the moment, but I could feel tension and concern in the air. I exchanged a nonchalant greeting with the cooks, and went straight to Chella, who looked rather busy, but not enough to forget to spare me a smile and a nod. She seemed to be planning not to clue anybody in about what I had tried to, and I couldn't agree more. They certainly were asking themselves why I had slept in, that morning, but I supposed that the tired look on my face would make them think I simply had fallen ill. They wouldn't ask questions, that was for sure.

"Oh! Good morning, little Eris!" She chirped, not seeming concerned at all. I smiled back, briefly, a tense, little smile, and more out of courtesy than cheerfulness, getting close enough not to be concerned about others hearing us, my hands folded in my lap. To tell the truth, I was planning to apologize. I had acted thoughtlessly, and who knew what else the silence of the night would've led me to try… had I not been stopped. Certainly, it had been rather foolish of me, to almost throw away their protection like that. As I was looking for the right words, though, she preceded me, speaking again as she gestured towards me, a big wooden spoon in her hand. She had been taking care of the soups, and still looked at the big boiling pots, now and then, as she spoke to me. "You know, Master Nathan was here, earlier this morning. Asked about you, and told me to send you up to see him. You should probably go, child. But, first!" A rather brisk gesture of hers, which caused me to widen my eyes and take a step back, the spoon travelling a bit too close to my chest. "Put some food in your stomach. You're getting thinner and thinner… and look at those pale cheeks! You're not stepping out of here until I've seen you eat something."

Here they were again, Chella's firm but loving orders. The way she commanded everyone, with an iron fist, but wisely, too. Of course her reign was all contained between four walls, but she was, in a way, a queen of the kitchen, and what one would've easily mistaken for being emotional and overly optimistic, often, was no different than the mask of coldness I wore whenever things got out of hand. I nodded, although I was far from being hungry, and she went on, her back turned to me as she kept working. "What would Master Nathan say, if he heard your belly rumbling while you speak to him? The last thing we want is to make him think we're starving you, down here!"

Inside of me, I chuckled. Oh, they were most definitely not starving me, and the weight I had lost was only because of the hard work. My arms and legs… while the curves were still soft, they were starting to get a little more toned, now, muscular – thinner, indeed, but less frail than before. "He must be rather angry… I'm sorry. I could've caused so many problems to you…"

"Oh, no, not angry at all, child. Stop apologizing. But…" She lowered her voice only a little, smiling back towards me. "He still wants to talk about last night's… little _escapade_, let's say." Of course he did. I wasn't surprised at all, and I fully expected a good reprimand and a slap on the wrist, the sort of thing I used to get from my teachers, back at home, when I made a mistake. I rather missed the studying, and the thought made me feel even more gloomy than before. Truly, that didn't look like a great day, even just from the start. Not the worst of my life, but not a great one either.

"I… I don't know what I was doing", I went on, trying to explain myself. "I wasn't planning to run away… but I just had to get out for a while. To…"

"Don't worry, he won't bite your head off. And, if he tries to", she chuckled, a big grin on her lips as she turned around to pay full attention to me, "I'll box his ears until that silly idea falls out of his thick skull!" That wasn't exactly a reply, but it was somewhat reassuring, and I nodded as I grabbed some bread, absently starting to eat as I thought about that night. The meeting with Vico had luckily slipped in the background, by then. I was focusing on why I had done that, and what did I want to prove. That I could take care of myself? Hardly. I couldn't, not at all, and after the previous night I was even more sure about it. That I wasn't a prisoner? That I could leave if I wanted to?

Maybe I just wanted to see home again, maybe I was just too frustrated by the turn my life had taken. The night, the moon… it can make you do strange things. Strange, thoughtless, foolishly brave things, and if you're not careful, it can become the cause of your death. Now I know well of the darkness and its tricks, of the strings it can pull to make you fall in its deadly traps, and I know how to use them to my advantage, but back then, the ever-changing face of the moon held secrets that I didn't fully understand. It's true. We can share our darkest memories, at night, throw them at the wrong ears, and cause our own doom, but we can also find out more truths than those that the daylight leaves open for us… what's hidden in the sun, is undisclosed under the moon. No, I'm not rambling, but it is likely that, had I had a similar chance during the day, I wouldn't have tried to open that lock at all.

Seeing me thoughtful, her smile got warmer, and she gestured towards the corridor which led to the staircase. "I think you should get it done quickly, little Eris. Go and see him. You'll feel better after that, I promise." She was right. I finished my bread quickly, and I started walking, but not before being interrupted in my train of thoughts not once, but twice. That was rather unusual; those of us who worked in the kitchen usually didn't speak that much… but Trissa, for example, had a couple of things to tell me that were rather unexpected to me, and most definitely not what I planned to deal with for a while.

Her glare should've been enough warning that I had finally managed to do something to annoy her, and, barely unable to tower over me, she made up for it by assuming a domineering position, thinking that her being older than me would be enough to make me think of her as an authority. Little did she know, the wench. "You! Stay away from Caron, okay?"

Gods, I so didn't plan to deal with that.

"Nice to see you too. Please, let me pass, I'm busy". It took all of my will not to roll my eyes at her words. I tried to step away from her, but she placed herself between me and the door, and by now she was positively fuming. I honestly wasn't sure about how to handle the situation, a jealous woman was something I had no experience with, and, to top it all, I just plain didn't care whether my close relationship with Caron bothered her at all. I had more important things to think about, and I was nervous enough on my own, already.

"This isn't funny at all, I'm very serious! Keep your hands off him!" There was a hint of hesitation in her voice, and I was fully intending to exploit that weakness and get rid of her quickly. Trying to get her to change the subject, back then, seemed like the best idea, but if I've ever seen a woman with a one-track mind…

"The show you're putting for everyone to see is rather funny, instead. But I don't have the time to deal with this, so _please_ let me pass". Trying to make it sound like an order, I did my best to wiggle away from her, but just when I had managed to get past that meat wall, she pointed a finger at me, raising her voice even more for everyone to hear. More attention. Just what I wanted… not.

"I saw you, two days ago! You two, alone! And he had his hands up your skirt, you slut!" I froze in my tracks, and inhaled deeply, closing my eyes before turning back to face her. I couldn't allow her to make me lose control… it wasn't worth getting anything more than peeved at, really, but I was too tired and anxious, and she was doing a great job of frustrating me to the point of explosion.

"Indeed, he had. I could waste my time explaining you why he did that, and how there was nothing… _licentious_ about that situation, but I have better things to do. And, now that I think about it… it's really none of your business. So, go back to your own, and I'll take care of mine", I tried to remain calm as I explained to her, and something about my tone or my words caused her to back away, her tense pose loosening and her frown increasing.

"Just… keep your hands off him, you heard me, you prissy bitch?" She was close to breaking point, I could see it clearly now. She barked and barked, and struggled not to lose her face, but that morning I wasn't in the right mood to be delicate with her, and knowing that I had the advantage in that verbal exchange filled me with the ancient lust for dominating others I've always had. Such satisfaction would most definitely help me go through that day with a less gloomy attitude, I was sure.

"I did. Just like everyone in at least a mile from here. Just like all of those times you hid between the crates and screamed your heart out, on all fours like a _dog_. Now do yourself a favor and stop acting like a _pathetic_, hysterical child, they're all staring at you". I didn't even check to confirm if it was true, and nor she did, cowering and hurrying away from me, but not before sparing me a furious glare. And I was lying when I spoke about her screaming, but for some reason, she didn't protest, too surprised by my blunt reaction, maybe. The fact that I wished I had crushed her even further, humiliated her even more, should've made me more uneasy, but it was probably caused by the frustration built up from being outside of my natural areas, alone, forced to act like everyone else… and having met Vico again, and having been unable to get revenge. I needed more to feel satisfied, but I knew my thirst couldn't be quenched yet.

The main target of my hate was well out of my reach, and I couldn't hit him hard enough… yet.

I went out of the room, forcing myself to ignore the chattering behind me and the stares we most definitely had attracted with our little sparring, only to be met with my second interruption that day. A more pleasant one, luckily, and, this time, with the door closed behind my back, I felt that I could spare a minute speaking, relaxing, not to enter Master Nathan's room looking like the personification of Righteous Fury.

"That… was a bit scary", Caron said, chuckling nervously as he approached me, cautious, maybe figuring that I might be in a bad mood, after what he had heard. He was right, but the sense of satisfaction had helped me calm down a little, and so I smirked for a moment, lowering my eyes before shaking my head.

"I got carried away a little, didn't I?" I commented, almost light hearted, not addressing at all the fact that we had argued about him. He seemed to be studying for a moment, then, reassured, he walked up to me, a knowing grin on his cheeky face.

"I have no idea, but I'll make sure not to get in your way when you're having a bad day". He paused, and then he spoke again, half jokingly, half concerned. "Is this a bad day?"

"Yes. Yes, this isn't exactly the best of days".

"Yeah… actually, I've been told you've tried to sneak away, last night. And without even saying goodbye to me… tsk, tsk…" His terrible excuse for a pout made me smile, once again, and I stared into his eyes, feeling more at ease than I thought I could ever be again. I couldn't realize it, yet… I was starting to fall for him, hopelessly and steadily falling for his smile, his eyes, the way he spoke to me. Such a poor fool I was, back then.

"I wasn't sneaking away. I was just… practicing…" He looked dubiously at me, and I raised my eyebrow, folding my arms in front of my chest, despite knowing that I wasn't being completely honest with him. "Where else would I go? There's nobody waiting for me home". Those words hurt me more than they were meant hurt him, but I could see they hit him hard, and I didn't understand why.

Despite that, he quickly turned back to his usual smile, not allowing my cynical words to sink in. "I was just kidding. You're working until late, tonight?"

"I'm not sure yet. Chella told me to go and see Master Nathan… so…"

"Oh… oh, I see. Well, I was hoping to spend a little time with you, you know. I have new tricks for my favorite student. Like juggling!"

"Juggling?"

How the words echo in my mind. The familiarity. The innocence. The calm. The warm light from the ceiling, and me, sitting on a crate, him, walking around me, closer and closer, gesticulating…

"Yeah, it's not difficult to learn. I'll teach you… if you'd like it, of course".

"Does juggling involve fondling at all?" I asked, one eyebrow raised in sarcasm, and he hit me back with another joke, not allowing my humor to slow him down.

"Would you like it to?"

"The pick-pocketing was enough, I think".

He assumed an air of innocence, though, as usual, the natural look of mischief he had made it impossible for him to make it look true at all. "It was entirely by chance. I've already explained you, a lot of people carry their wallets in their pockets…" My dubious stare caused him to chuckle, making the façade fade even further. "And other _interesting _things".

"Like _you_ do, I'm sure". That didn't come out exactly as I had expected it, and I immediately jumped down from the crate, blushing as I started walking away, interrupting him just while he was about to comment on the double meaning of my words. "I think Master Nathan is expecting me, though. I'll see you later, Caron… and we'll see this juggling trick of yours".

"Right… See you later, Eris!"

I nodded at him, granting him a smile, before starting to walk up the stairs.

* * *

I must admit one thing: even though he is easily the man who influenced my life the most, back then, I haven't spoken much with Master Nathan. Then again, he wasn't a man of too many words, and whenever he did speak, I found myself more concentrated on his eyes, and less on his words. If I were to describe him, he'd sound very ordinary; grey, receding hair, nor tall, nor short, he's an elder, at least over fifty-five years old, though it wouldn't surprise me if he actually was much older than that. It definitely is the eyes. Cold, and yet passionate. Tired, and yet strong. He was always hiding something, and I'm the kind of person who sees this as a challenge.

During the time I've spent at the Bear Pit, I've barely ever met with him, although I know for a fact that he'd been asking about my wellbeing now and then. Chella told me so, at least. All I knew, back then, was that he owned the restaurant, that some strange men and women in dark clothing often went up to his personal apartments to see him, and that he was usually surrounded by three or four others, all with weapons, all looking very much like guards or soldiers. I've found myself wondering, now and then, what exactly was his business, as someone in his position had little reason to have a following of personal guards, and, at first, I assumed that he may be an informer of sorts. A restaurant seemed just like the kind of place one would find information in, although an inn was probably more suited to that.

Needless to say, there was much more than that under the surface.

I went through the doors leading to his rooms, and, at the door, a couple of young men with broad shoulders greeted me cheerfully and allowed me to get inside, calling me by my name. That… unsettled me slightly. I had seen them a couple of times only, they guarded Master Nathan's quarters and sometimes came to share a word with Chella, or even Caron. Still, there seemed to be no malice in their words, and I assumed that they must've been told about me by someone else, and so I nodded at them and greeted back, trying to shake off the feeling of awkwardness. They clearly didn't know who I truly was.

I looked around, hesitating before walking up to the elder sitting behind a wooden table, who, as soon as he spotted me, stood up and stared at me; from afar, two other pairs of eyes observed me, coming from a man and a woman carrying swords, but ignored them, just like I used to ignore the castle guards and servants while I spoke to nobles and diplomats, and kept approaching Nathan. "Eris", he acknowledged my presence, and, in response, I nervously curtsied, catching my breath and wondering how to start. I was spared that fatigue. "How do you like working in the kitchen?"

A blunt, seemingly harmless question, which caught me off guard. I carefully chose my words, confused. "It's… generous of you to hide me here, sir. I'm… adjusting to the changes, and I really appreciate you giving me shelter…"

What could've been a needlessly long speech, the tattered remains of my old manner of speaking with members of the aristocracy, was immediately cut by his words. He wasn't angry or sarcastic, and, to be honest, I couldn't catch anything revealing in the tone of his voice. "So why did you try to sneak away, last night?" A good question. A question it took me a moment to reply to.

"I had grown… restless. Foolishly so. I don't know what I planned to do afterwards, but… I was alone and awake, late at night… and I just had to try. I'm truly sorry." This time, he allowed me to finish, studying my reactions, stern and detached, but somehow completely neutral.

"You're being kept inside mainly for _your own_ protection, Eris". There it was, exactly what I expected. A long winded reprimand, a speech about why what I had done was stupid and childish, and that made me feel slightly less awkward. I listened, nodding, looking up into his eyes. "While you're here, hiding from them, the Dhorn have established a governor. Merely a puppet, upholding the law just like any of them would, giving the people the faint illusion of not having been invaded by a foreign land… although just looking outside from the window, seeing the red armors on patrol would make you _understand_", he paused, weighing his words before he started speaking once again. "Everybody who used to be associated with your father's name has been killed. Every single guard, or soldier, even the servants, even the stable boys". My lips thinned as I lowered my eyes. The servitude… some of them were children. The brave city guard, who protected the people in the city. I was immediately reminded of Shira, of the friendly guards whom I spoke to now and then, of everybody who used to be part of my life. Every brick in my world of fantasy had been shattered. "I don't think you need me to tell you what would happen… should they ever learn that you've been hiding here all this time".

He was right. Completely, fully right, and I had almost done something that would've cost my life. And, maybe, the lives of some of the ones who had tried to protect me. I nodded, silently, as I kept my mouth shut, thoughtful.

"And… although I firmly believe that working in the kitchen some more would do you good…" I instinctively looked up, slightly annoyed at such words, wondering what he meant, but not speaking or protesting just yet. "I have a proposition for you. I would like you to work for me".

I widened my eyes, and my thoughts went back to the strange people going upstairs to see him, to the guards in his room. What kind of job was he offering me? Why a job, and not a way to go back to my home, to my throne? I was slightly frustrated, but I had to accept everything, as always. Getting my lands and title back weren't just around the corner. My dreams of revenge and justice were little more than fairytales. One disappointment after the other. "To work for you…?" I did my best not to sound too thwarted, and managed to.

"What exactly you'll do will depends on the talents you'll show to me. But you'll be out of the kitchen". Again, nothing to be gathered by listening to the tone of his voice, no hint. His eyes were studying me, and forbidding me to study him.

"Outside of the kitchen… Won't the Dhorn recognize me…?"

"You can't hide yourself forever, Eris. But first, there are some things you should learn".

There begun a new part of my life: the time of learning. Caron's lessons were only the tip of the iceberg, but had been a good start. I would, soon, learn things most princesses wouldn't even dream of. Not all were positive, either, but I needed them. I needed to become strong, even though I didn't realize yet how vital it was. "Yes…?"

"I will be giving you seven names, and where to find these people. They will be your teachers; they all live within the city walls, so you will be free to move inside the city for the purpose of attending their lessons. I would suggest you to stay away from the Dhorn, Eris. You surely have changed from back when you first arrived… but they still are dangerous for you. And you shouldn't take such risks lightly. Pass through each and every one of those lessons, and come back to me. I'll tell you more about the kind of work you're going to do for me".

Seven names. Chella, the Chella I knew well by now, would teach me about disguising; it sounded like a useful lesson to learn, in my situation. Hatori, the owner of a tea shop, would teach me how to fight, or at least the basics; that one lesson I'd go through with pleasure, my mind already set on how I'd get revenge on Vico, sooner or later. A certain Drago, who lived at the docks in the southern part of the town, would teach me about stealth, sneaking around without getting seen; that sounded like another useful skill to have, as I wasn't planning to get caught by the Dhorn just yet, not until I could righteously extinguish their taint from my lands. Then, a woman named Joanna, living in the southern district – but Master Nathan refused to tell me about what kind of lesson it would be, and I had to accept his silence, just as with my fifth teacher, Yance. Yance, in the market place. Then, a man named Alfons… living… in the sewers, teaching me how to disarm traps and open locks? That earned from me a raised eyebrow: still, it answered a couple of questions I used to keep to myself, about how Caron had learned such things, why he was teaching me, and why Nathan had bodyguards always with him. Finally, Kelten, an innkeeper, who'd teach me about setting traps. All in all, that sounded like set of skills a thief would need to do her job. Or a spy. Or a cutthroat.

I eyed cautiously Master Nathan as he spoke on, trying not to look too dubious, and wondering what exactly my job would involve. Back then, I just couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that I wouldn't be a queen anytime soon; becoming a rogue and getting involved with the darker figures in the streets sounded outraging to me, but I would change my mind, with time… I couldn't strike the Dhorn with the force of an army, for I didn't have one. I couldn't charm a whole nation to fight in my name. I had to learn how to be right at their back, a knife in my hand, ready to push it in their flesh at the first moment of weakness. Taking them out one by one. Making them suffer.

Although that wasn't exactly what Master Nathan had in mind for me, I'm afraid.

I received a last warning about the dangers of the Dhorn and the sailors at the deck – rough, unwashed men with no more morals than wits, who weren't too happy with the new laws regarding brothels and prostitution… they sounded exactly like the sort of thing I wanted to have nothing to do with. Then, the elder sent me on my way, with a notebook full of name and addresses, and too many questions on my mind that I couldn't voice yet.

I didn't relish the thought to venture outside on my own, but I had no other choice, and it was at least a change from the many weeks I've spent scrubbing pots and dirtying my hands in a kitchen. Once again, from the beginning, I was to learn how to live, in a world that seemed to be out to get me, where everything seemed ready to harm me. I sighed, went through the corridor once again, and stepped out of the door, worried but excited; I would walk outside for the first time in a very long time. I'd see the castle again. Soon.


End file.
